


i didn't mean to fall in love tonight

by pulisics



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Halsey - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Sex, Lowercase, M/M, Making Out, Mild Language, marco is a dancer, mario likes him, one of those fics, stripper?, this was written in 10 minutes and i'm too lazy to fix it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-16 19:39:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10578138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pulisics/pseuds/pulisics
Summary: white sheets, bright lights, crooked teeth, and the night life





	

**Author's Note:**

> is there a better comeback than a gotzeus fic? in this case yes, because this is shitty and not proofread, but still... enjoy!

in the mix of sweaty bodies, desperate men with way too much alcohol in their system and a bartender who looked like he would rather die than be here, the blond haired angel was the only thing that didn't make mario want to throw up. god only knows why he found himself in a cheap strip club at 1am in the middle of the week, but seeing as ninety percent of his decisions were reckless and strange as fuck, there wasn't any possible reason why he could be surprised. 

he felt out of place. he was probably the only person younger than 25, actually younger than 35, considering how old all of these people looked, but he didn't care. the only thing that mattered was the blond dancer. he balanced between lean and muscular and his moves were a beautiful mix of sharpness and elegance. his eyes were a completely different thing; so cold, mysterious and intoxicating, almost challenging in a way. the man was gripping the pole, effortlessly spinning on it and doing things that made mario think about the way he would use that flexibility in the bedroom. just the thought of the pale dancer in his bed made him twitch in his seat. when he lifted his gaze, he was once again met with those striking eyes, which turned into a mischievous look as the dancer slowly slid down the pole and stuck his ass higher, wiggling it almost unnoticeable and lifting himself up again. mario could already feel his jeans getting tighter and he started cursing whatever made him wear the stupid skinny jeans in his head.

five drinks later he was standing in an alley with the same blond dancer. he said that his name was marco. marco was a good kisser. marco was an amazing kisser.

fifteen minutes later they were in mario's hotel room and marco was giving him a lap dance. with marco's arms around his neck, ass in his lap and lips against his skin, there was no other place mario would rather be. but although blissful, his lips still felt heavy and wrong and mario didn't want to melt underneath him, but he still did. he let marco hold him and he let marco kiss him, and he let marco fuck his "pretty little ass" and explore his body and he was enjoying every second of it. he knew that he would hate himself tomorrow.

marco made love the same way he danced, quick, elegant and with passion. well, mario wanted it to be making love, even though it was just an unimportant fuck that he would forget when he saw another pair of pretty eyes. 

mario loved the way marco danced, and the way he fucked, the way he kissed his skin as if it was one of the most delicate things but still moved roughly inside of him. he loved the way marco pulled him closer wrapped his arms around him when they laid wrapped in a mass of white sheets and breathless. he loved the way marco traced his tattoos and kissed his fingers when he intertwined them with mario's after taking his hand. he loved the way a stranger made him feels so safe and loved, but that was exactly what he hated.

he hated the fact that marco was and will remain nothing but a stranger to him. he hated the sad look on his face when he was leaving. he hated the kiss that marco left on his lips and the words he whispered thinking he was asleep. he hated the fact that marco left without a goodbye and hated how upset it made him feel. he hated that piece of paper that laid on the edge of his table with a series of numbers. he hated the way he tore it apart and tossed it away. he hated how marco was the only one who he wanted beside him for more than one night. he hated himself because he knew that wasn't possible. he hated himself because he fell for him.

**Author's Note:**

> if you didn't understand, marco left his number, but mario tossed it away bc he's a little shit and doesn't know what he wants. please tell me if there are any mistakes or if some parts don't make sense and feel free to leave a kudos :)


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